


Backstage

by AnnaofAza



Series: There's Truth in Fiction [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (for now) - Freeform, Episode: s10e05 Fan Fiction, F/F, Light-Hearted, M/M, POV Castiel, Season/Series 10, Solving Problems with Power Ballads, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siobhan has a case of stage fright, but fear not! Kristen and Castiel (and Dean) are here to help!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backstage

 “But—Dad said—“

“Don’t worry about what _Dad_ says!” Marie snaps, hands on her hips. Her wig is a little askew from the exuberant dance number from the last scene, but otherwise, she appears to be doing fine, even with the weight of the pagan goddess looming over her head. “Worry about yourself, Dean! Don’t you ever do that?”

Siobhan nervously swallows several times, before replying, “I—I…”

“I wish I can go up there! But I don’t come in until nearly Act Two. God damn it!” Kristen mutters, fists clenched in the pockets of her trenchcoat. Castiel’s senses are alert for Calliope, but he’s quietly watching the scene over Kristen’s shoulder. He feels a pang for the girl up there, clearly struck with a case of what Kristen told him was _stage fright_.

On the stage, Siobhan breathes, once, as the audience waits in the modestly-crowded auditorium, leaning forward to catch her words. “I do, Sammy,” she almost whispers. “But you’re more important.”

“Damn it, Dean!” Marie’s voice is louder now, as if trying to make up for Kristen’s lack of volume. “You’re going to _Hell._ You don’t deserve to be there, and you know it!” She raises her arms dramatically in the air. “You sacrificed yourself for me, but the price is too high. Please, Dean, don’t leave me.”

Behind him, Dean emits a choking noise. At first, Castiel thinks the man is laughing at the performance and moves to give him a look of chastisement, but instead, Dean looks almost...haunted. The arm holding the stake hangs limp at his side, and Castiel heightens his senses to catch any movements Dean may have missed.

“Dean,” he murmurs. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” the other man hisses, tightening his grip on the weapon and refusing to look at him. “Just keep an eye out for any sign of Calliope.”

Suddenly, Kristen gasps, and both Castiel and Dean turn to her, hackles raised, but she isn’t looking at purple flowers or animated scarecrows. She’s watching Siobhan gesture woodenly, as the spotlight hits her again. Even from this angle, Castiel can clearly see the fear on her face.

“It’s lucky this scene requires Dean to be afraid,” the actress playing Mary breathes. “Otherwise, this will be going down faster than you can say—“

“Shut it!” Kristen turns to her with a fierce glare. “She can do this. She _can_. It’s just that her fucking father picked tonight, of all nights, to see her perform—“

“…I—I don’t want to. But I deserve it.” Siobhan’s voice is now shaking, and her head is firmly turned away from the audience. Marie is trying her best not to outright glare at her, and is also trying to mouth the lines to her. “I don’t deserve to be on this earth anymore, Sammy. I’m just so tired…I—“

Siobhan chokes. Marie gives her a look of concern, but Siobhan only shakes her head. Someone in the audience coughs harshly, and the girl freezes.

“You deserve this, Dean,” Marie quickly says. “I’ll get you out of this. We’ll find a way.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

“Wait, that’s her line from the Second Act,” Maeve hisses. “From the hospital scene—“

Castiel, with increasing worry, notices that Siobhan’s energy is flickering on and off, that she’s rolling onto the balls of her feet as if preparing to run away, and that with every missed line, Siobhan looks down at the ground helplessly and retreats more and more into herself. Kristen’s fists clench tighter in anxiety.

 _I must do something,_ Castiel thinks.

Marie’s trying her best to continue the scene: “You’re strong, Dean. Don’t let Dad tell you who to be.”

Kristen’s mouthing _please, please, please._

Castiel knows what to do. He nudges a hunt of a suggestion towards Siobhan, extending his Grace. It twinges, like a sore muscle, but Castiel refuses to let that slow him down. Beside him, Dean’s looking at Castiel with a question in his eyes.

Miraculously, Siobhan looks over to the side, backstage, and Kristen smiles back, waving. She draws the actress playing John Winchester, waiting on the edge of the backstage area for her cue, close. Then, Kristen, in one, smooth motion, shoves her onto the stage. Her mouth moves silently: _kick it in the ass._

Siobhan’s face suddenly brightens, just a little but enough, and she quickly tamps it down before the audience catches on. “Yes, we will,” she says, more firmly, causing Marie to nearly jump backwards. “I may go to Hell, but dammit, I’ll survive, and I’ll pull myself out if I have to! I swear it!”

Every time Siobhan glances backstage, her voice becomes louder, more confident, more self-assured. Castiel knows every line of this scene by heart, and his breath is caught in his throat when Siobhan begins the opening lines of her song, a ballad of defiance and fire. She prowls around the actress, heedless to the scripted taunts thrown at her, voice strong and steady.

Castiel looks at Dean, who’s looking on with amazement etched in his face, and thinks, _This is also for you, Dean Winchester._ Dean must feel Castiel's eyes on him, because he turns around and gives Castiel such a _fond_ look, something that reminds Castiel of an embrace in Purgatory, that it prods at the hope rising in his chest.  He sees no trace of the weariness Dean has carried around like a chain around his neck, nothing of the black-eyed creature that he had to restrain from killing his own brother. He looks like the Dean he's only heard by drunken confessions or whispered stories in the dark, in solitude, in Purgatory: the weight of the world off his shoulders and filled freely with affection.  

Siobhan, by the end, is locking eyes with someone in the audience, powerful and sure, and Castiel thinks she will rival the Calliope herself.

The audience applauds, and everyone on the stage bows briefly before retreating.

“You did it!” Kristen sings, throwing her arms around Siobhan, who’s laughing. Her eyes are wet.

“Oh my God. I did. I really did.” Siobhan gasps, trembling.

Dean is still _looking_ at Castiel like that, and he smiles back, _hoping..._

The moment is immediately shattered by Sam rushing over towards them with a frantic expression, waving one arm in the air. “Dean! Cas! I—“

Suddenly, the back of the scenery set seems to reach out and _grab_ the younger Winchester in mid-step, and Sam disappears without a trace.

Dean then hefts the stake, his eyes now longer filled with joy. Now, they are filled with a hunger and thirst—something that Castiel has never seen before, except—except—when Dean was a demon.

“The show must go on,” Dean says, a new edge to his voice. “Cas, let’s go take down a goddess.”


End file.
